There’s a clock in my body called Formentera. It measures the minutes to and from my days on the island. I spent some of my best days on that tiny piece of land. And now that summer’s behind us and that my inner clock ticks tears of ‘saudade’, I need to think back of Kathryn’s and my last stay one more time: the temperamental mehari. the beach. aperitivos at Gecko. the fake-beach looks at Lucky Bar. the sun. Afternoon icecream at la Mukkeria. our Formentera playlist sunbathing on our terrace. the smell of suncream. Blue Bar. Blue Bar. Blue Bar. Tiny pitiusa, I’m sure going to miss you.

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